Something *magical* about getting engaged is how your ring becomes a magnet for crazy people. Not slightly adorable, off the beaten path older ladies who like weddings. Like out and out, I’m on medication for schizophrenia and I want to hear about your bouquet kind of crazies.
Last night I was at a reading and someone asked me how the wedding was going. I began to answer them, but out spun Ms. Crazy. She turned around from her perch at the wine and cheese station. “Wait? Are you engaged?” We do not know each other. “Yes, um, I’m Danielle-”
“Let me see your ring. I’m totally obsessed with engagement rings.”
“Okay, um, this is my ring. It was my fiance’s grandmot-”
“SO pretty. Do you have your dress?”
“I do! Actually, I was home for my birthday in August and found the perfect dress.”
“SO great. Can I see it?”
“Um, it’s not here.”
“No like on your phone.”
(Keep in mind, I still do not know her name.)
“Sure. Uh- this is it.”
“Now, what is this fabric, right here? What does that look like in person?”
I explain. This goes on for several minutes. Where am I getting married? Is the ceremony outdoors? What kind of shoes will I wear? Will I change shoes from the ceremony to the reception? What color are my bridesmaids dresses? Who is my maid of honor? Will we say traditional or non-traditional vows?
Then she goes on to explain that she LOVES weddings but will probably NEVER get married because she has NEVER met the right man. Oh my goodness. I still do not know her name. She has not introduced herself to me. Readers, this dear spinster was but a 23-25 year old beauty. Ma’m, you ain’t getting married because you are bananas sandwich.
That was similar, but different from this weekend…where I met a woman who told me “to enjoy this time, because it’s all downhill as soon as you get married.” She also shared that “the first year of marriage was really, really rough.” She was 26 and had been married for 13 months. She reiterated that this engagement period was the only good time we would have. It’s all downhill. No good times ahead. Danger.
She then asked to see my engagement ring. She took my hand, looked at it for .00000136 seconds, and threw my hand back to me. “Pretty,” she murmured, unimpressed.
This all went down while standing in an Upper West Side women’s clothing boutique. Again, I did not know her name.
Ladies! Lock it in! I do not want to hear about a) how terrible it is to be married b) what you think about my wedding dress or c) why no one should get married in their twenties (or ever). If you can’t say something nice, or something not remotely crazy, don’t say it at all.
And manners. Introduce yourself before you throw your crazy up on me.